Nippletop, Refrigerator Peak, Majestic Spur, Little Majestic

The days flew on by and before I knew it the weekend had appeared and it caught me unawares and sprang up and smacked me in the face. Ahh, what to do, what to do. Had to do something...but what? Most folks I've grown acquainted with this past week opted to go rock climbing somewhere. I ain't no climber, so I declined the invitation. Instead, me and another coworker decided to check out some interesting peaks within Zion National Park. Sounded like a cool, straightforward idea. So a couple of days ago, on the 7th, the two of us made the drive to the park with no concrete plans for the day, just a bunch of loosely scattered ideas and a hankering to climb at least one interesting peak: Nippletop.

Ahh yes, Nippletop. I had known about Nippletop for a long time, always making note of its pointy summit each time the fam and I drove into the park from the east. You can't miss it; it's definitely one of the more distinct peaks in the area. Ever since I'd first seen it I've wanted to climb it, and as soon as my coworker learned of its existence he wished to climb it as well. So it was settled; we were gonna climb it. How terribly exciting! 

Up the road and on through the tunnel we went, winding up the curves until finding a pullout somewhat close to the base of Nippeltop. We got out, threw on some layers, and then left the road and entered a dry wash. From there we found a way up to the base of Nippletop's north ridge, staying slightly to the west to avoid a large fissure and much steeper terrain. We zig-zagged up steep sandstone slabs, stopping every now and then to catch our breath. 

We eventually crossed the fissure when it was most easy to do so, now directly ascending the middle of the north ridge. A few steep minutes later and we had reached the top of the ridge, now walking on terrain that was much more agreeable to our quads and calves. We took a break, admiring the excellent views of the rugged slickrock terrain that surrounded us. 

Navigation from this point onward was very straightforward; we simply walked on the ridge towards our destination. Continuing along the ridge, we were soon gifted with a gorgeous view of Nippletop and the rest of the route we had left to travel. The brief class 3 section to gain the mesa rim looked a bit scary from far away, but the closer we got to it the more reasonable it became. We were soon underneath it, deciding to ditch an obvious use trail to do some unnecessary scrambling 'cause, why not? We directly ascended the thing, pulling an awkward move at one point that definitely got the adrenal glands nice and happy. Who needs caffeine? A little exposure in the morning will wake you up in no time! 

Class 3 section

Fun, avoidable scambling

Once we had gained the mesa rim, all that was left was a nice and simple walk on the "breast" towards the "nipple." Easy traveling on a gentle grade awaited us, and soon we had made it to the base of the summit block. A super short and simple class 3 scramble later and we had finally reached the top of the nipple. At long last...

The views from the summit of Nippletop were some of the best I've ever seen from any peak. Panoramic, 360 degrees, all overlooking a vast, rugged landscape that melts the mind and tugs the soul. High desert, colorful rocks, a spattering of trees. Reds and whites and greens and the crystal clear blue of the endless sky. Canyons, divots, hoodoos, peaks and mesas galore, too many to explore, too many to know. We sat on the summit for a good long while, our eyes inhaling the spectacular scenery, our mouths producing eloquent words such as "sweet" and "wow" and "yep." The wind kicked up, we donned more layers, hunkered down, and remained where we were, our eyes scanning the landscape, too many things to see, too many things to perceive. 

But we had to leave at some point, so we said goodbye to the nipple and retraced our steps off the breast. We took a much easier and safer route for the descent, avoiding the unnecessary stuff we ascended on the way up. Down the ridge, down the slickrock, back in the wash, back in the car. It wasn't even noon yet. Still had a whole day ahead of us. Ahh, what to do...what to do...

I mentioned some other peaks we could check out, which prompted a conversation about entering the park and taking the tram and seeing the sights and stuff and such. So we drove on down the road, back through the tunnel and out to the visitor center, where it took almost half an hour to find a place to park. Good lord. That was no fun at all. And then we crammed ourselves on a jam-packed tram and the people were loud and laughing and everyone smelled like sunscreen, shampoo and cologne and people got on and off and it was like we were on the metro in downtown Los Angeles. Very jarring. A complete and polar opposite vibration from that felt on Nippletop.

And so we got off at stop six and I ate the rest of my food and then we got on the trail for Angels Landing and my coworker talked about how he used to run up this trail every day when he worked at the lodge and people were going up and down and down and up at all times, people of all walks of life, people blasting music, people dressed in gym clothes, people dressed in street clothes, dudes walking shirtless in the sun and ladies clad in tight fitting sports bras and spandex. And we ascended the switchbacks and "Walter's Wiggles" and we made it to Scout's Lookout and continued on the West Rim Trail, finding a spot in the sun to stop and rest and nap for a bit. And we dozed in the sun and got good and tan and we stayed there for a while, listening to the hum of all the folks making the trek to Angels Landing.

Rested, recharged, energized and ready to rock and roll, we carried on with our walk, following the West Rim Trail as it made its way farther away from the hullabaloo down below. And we left the trail at some point and followed a noticeable use path through slickrock and sand to a little prominence that I recognized as Refrigerator Peak. And we climbed it fairly quickly, reaching a well-worn high point that had a bunch of names etched into the sandstone. And a group of young spring breakers had followed us and they reached the summit not too long after we did, so we left them to their devices and we made our way back down, descending the steep western face back to the West Rim Trail. 

Looking back at the ridge to Refrigerator Peak

View from Refrigerator Peak

Not entirely done for the day, we decided to hit up two more peaks: Majestic Spur and Little Majestic. These two unassuming knobs were clearly visible from the trail and we figured we'd might as well check them out while we had the chance. 

So we left the trail once again, walking on a nice and wide and flat slickrock highway, heading south and then west towards the two peaks. We followed a use trail which quickly disappeared, traveling up and out of a tiny dry wash, through manzanita and cactus, careful not to disturb the occasional patch of cryptobiotic soil.

Majestic Spur left, Little Majestic right

We decided to climb Majestic Spur first, mostly 'cause it looked really cool. Steep, pointy, covered in trees—what's not to love? So we made our way to its slanted, slick base and found a steep, slippery way to its summit. A lot of loose rock, a wee bit of route finding, but nothing too bad. A short scamper up a loose slope and we were on the pointy summit in no time. 

Majestic Spur Summit

Lookin' southeast

Lookin' northeast

Splendid views of the Zion backcountry spread out before us, various rugged peaks looming in the distance. We had both run out of food and were running low on water by this point, so my coworker whipped out some expired electrolyte powder that was given away for free at work and we poured it into our water bottles and shook 'em up good and drank our fill, the taste mild and unassuming. And then we retraced our steps off Majestic Spur and hopped on over to Little Majestic, the last peak of the day. 

A swift walk up easy class 2 slabs brought us to the unremarkable summit nice and quick, the views exactly the same as those found on Majestic Spur. Personally, I found Majestic Spur to be far more interesting and would simply skip Little Majestic altogether (unless you really wanna see what's up there for some reason). And so we sat for a little bit, drank more of our expired electrolyte mix, and then slowly made our way off the summit back to the West Rim Trail.

Majestic Spur as seen from Little Majestic summit

Heading back...

We took a much easier route on the way back, traveling in a large slickrock bowl that we somehow completely missed on our way up. And the bowl led to the highway, and the highway to the trail, and the trail to the tram. Much less people out and about now, the sun going down, the walls turning bright orange, the temps cooling off, night approaching, the day coming to a close. We left the trail, got on a tram, this one nearly empty. And we got off at the visitor center and found the car in the now nearly vacant parking lot, started 'er up and drove on out of there.

It had been a great day on some great peaks, a tiny sample of what Zion has to offer. My curiosity had been piqued, so much so that I drove back into the park the very next day to check out even more peaks. But that's a story for another time. 

Gettin' Sunburnt on Tecuya Mountain

 02/26/26

I was quite sore in the morning. The previous day's speed march up Montecito Peak and Gaviota Peak really did a number on my already tired legs, prompting my brain to suggest a day's worth of total sloth. But there's always something to do and I was darn well gonna do it so I decided to set off on another adventure, defying my body's best interests.

Liam picked me up at my Uncle's place, the two of us driving down into Ventura to meet up with Daniel. We switched cars, Daniel driving up Highway 126 to the I-5, bound for good ol' Frazier Park. When we arrived at said destination we drove straight through town, taking note of various points of interest. Ahh yes, there's Big John's. And over there is the Ace Hardware store. Caveman Cavey's? Oh yeah. Real good pizza right there. This fantastic sightseeing tour lasted until we reached Fire Station 23, where we made a right onto West End Drive, parking next to the closed gate. We got out, looked around, and then immediately began walking, 

Our goal, Tecuya Mountain, rose ahead of us somewhere. Like the day before, I had done absolutely zero research on this mountain; all I knew was that you could drive to the top, but who wants to do that? Plus it was still technically winter, so all the gates were closed anyway so even if we wanted to drive up to the top we couldn't. That left us with walking, and walk we did, bringing nothing but the clothes on our backs and the shoes on our feet. No water, no hat, no sunscreen. Yep. We was gonna get burnt all right.

We followed the road, making a slight left at one point. Liam commented on how dead the place looked. Daniel sarcastically said how awesome it was. The two of them were hiking up in leather cowboy boots, a likely reason for these disconsolate remarks. With tule fog blowing up from Lebec, the breeze light and the sun happy we pressed on, the road narrowing the farther we went. We hit a metal fixture of sorts. Crossed it. No more road. Just a single track path now, dirt bike tracks visible in the mud, patchy snow in the shade, soft green grass under the trees. Only one way to go. Onward and upward. 

We took a few breaks, removed our shirts. Daniel discovered that wiping snow on the chest and back was actually quite pleasant. We all did this for a while, walking uphill, wiping snow on our skin, the UV rays hitting hard, a slight burn beginning to materialize. I put my shirt back on. Didn't wanna damage my skin again. Been there, done that. Too bad I didn't have a shirt for my face. Oh well.

We hit a junction, made a hard right up a steep ridge and followed it the rest of the way to the summit. A little slip here, an achin' leg there. We each took turns leading the pack, Daniel removing his pants at some point. "Too tight" he said. Couldn't get enough movement apparently. And so he walked on up the mountain in nothing but cowboy boots and underwear, his pants and shirt slung over his shoulders like a damsel in distress.

After a particularly steep section we stopped hiking and sat on down and rested a bit, the sun slowly cooking our skin, the surrounding landscape coming into view. Frazier Mountain rose to the south, its northern flank still covered with a fair amount of sparkly snow. Off to the southwest sat Lockwood Valley, Thorn Point and Company visible in the distance. And to the southeast sprawled Frazier Park, the buildings tiny, the I-5 a small line cutting across the land. Good views, good sky. Couldn't stay there too long though. Had a mountain to climb. So we got up, stretched the legs, and pressed on, the summit soon coming into view. 

Tecuya Mountain Summit

Cool summit art

I tried carrying Daniel up the final push to the summit. I probably made it 50ft before giving up. Very embarrassing. I'd have to redeem myself later. While this was going on, Liam had taken the liberty of removing his trousers, preferring to hike in his running shorts. What a strange sight we must have been reaching that summit. Good thing we were the only ones there. 

The views at the top were pretty good to say the least, good enough that even Liam and Daniel had positive things to say about them. "Yeah, I guess it's alright." "Yep." "Pretty good." Stuff like that. Mt. Pinos and Company rose to the west, still covered in snow, still lookin' great as always. San Emigdio Mountain could be seen hiding in the distance, Antimony Peak a small forested bump bracing the tule fog pouring in from the north. Frazier Park looked smaller than ever, the Flying J truck stop a tiny, unassuming cube with even smaller cubes spread out around it. We sat down on a log and reaped the benefits of our labor, Liam and Daniel finally donning their shirts and pants. 

Tule Fog

Frazier Park

Mt Pinos and Company

I got up and walked around, finding the neon green register hiding under some metamorphic rocks. The booklet inside was brand new, just recently placed on July 20th, 2025. There were only a few entries since then, the most recent one signed February 1st of this year. We passed the booklet around, made our marks, and then decided to check out the northern side of the mountain. Descending a bit, we entered a patchy forest of Jeffery Pines, shooting for an opening that we thought would offer good views of the tule fog to the north. Alas, the views were just ok. Just saw much of what we had already seen. So we trudged on back to the summit, taking another few minutes to enjoy the day before heading back to the car. 

Headin' back...

Down, down, down, our faces burnt, our legs tired. We reached the junction, walked on down the single track. Found a large yucca branch. Took turns throwing it as far as we could. Daniel made a pit stop, Liam and I laid flat on our backs in the sun, our faces slowly transitioning from medium rare to medium well. And then we grouped up again and trucked on down to the car, started 'er up, rolled the windows down and screamed "Whiskey Bent and Hell Bound" all the way down the road. 

We tuned right, drove into PMC. Stopped at La Leña. Excellent food. Drove to Fern lake. Ain't no fish in there to be seen. And then we drove around town, no particular destination in mind. We pulled off the side of Freeman Drive and had an impromptu snowball fight that lasted longer than expected. And there was a steep hill and Daniel said, "I bet you can't carry me up that hill" and I said "yes I absolutely can, 100%" and he said "no you can't" and I said, "yes I can" and then he hopped on my back and I walked up the stupid hill all the way past the stupid stop sign and then collapsed on the stupid ground and Daniel laughed and I felt a simultaneous sense of accomplishment and regret. And then we all realized that we were dying of thirst so we drove on down to the General Store and got us some water and then we drove on out of there, off to the I-5, onto the 126, all the way back to Ventura.

And then Liam and I said goodby to Daniel for the moment and drove on over to the Downtown area where we met up with Nick and Bryan and a whole bunch of strangers for a running club. And of course we went wayy too fast and were soon drenched in sweat and my legs were crampin' and when we finished I was about done for the day And then we walked on up to Dargan's and met up with Daniel once again and had a few pints and that about ended the day. 

Friday was a rest day; didn't do nothin' stupid that would jack up my legs even more than they already were. And on Saturday I said goodbye to California and drove all the way into Utah to begin my new job. I've been training these past few days, gettin' to know the ropes and such. So far all has been well; nothin' but good weather and good folks and good times. Still trying to figure out what it is I'm gonna do on my days off. Whatever it is, I'll be sure to write about it. 

Time Crunch on Montecito Peak, Gaviota Peak

02/25/26

A whole assortment of menial, boring errands ate up the next couple of days after the half marathon. Necessary car maintenance, a tax appointment, stuff like that. As such, I only had three more days to explore, socialize, observe, contemplate. Had to get out there and see the sticks, touch some dirt. Wanted to see some place I ain't ever been, so I decided to check out Montecito Peak in the Santa Barbara front country. 

Not wanting to do something terrific that would destroy my already tender legs, Montecito Peak seemed like the perfect idea. I had spent the night at Liam's place, leaving somewhat late the next morning for the Cold Spring Trailhead off of East Mountain Drive. Not a whole lot of people were parked in the pullouts along the road. Perhaps that's what it's always like on a late Wednesday morning in February. I found a spot, parked the car, packed up my valuables, grabbed half a liter of water, and then set off on the trail.

Warm air, cool breeze, rushing water, green grass, miner's lettuce, purple flowers. Everything green and bright; looked more like April than February. I walked along, enjoying the phenomenal weather and lush scenery. Gaining elevation, the views began to materialize, as well as the sweat. Sweat on my head, sweat on my back. Before long, I was nice and soaked, my mind racked with flashbacks of all those times I trudged up Arlington Peak without enough water. Ah yes. The good ol' Santa Barbara front country. It was good to be back. 

I hit a junction with the Ridge Trail (or something like that, I wasn't paying much attention), hooked a left, and continued up to the peak. I could see it clearly now, a brushy, pointy lookin' summit that stood not too far off in the distance. I saw the trail cutting across the mountain, taking the long way. I considered cutting the trail and just going straight up the south ridge, but I'm a lazy bum and a trail purist so I put one foot in front of the other and kept on trucking up the path. 

I passed some young folks making their way up; they seemed to be enjoying themselves, talking about everything and everything. I kept on walking and walking, not stopping until I found some shade in a small group of eucalyptus trees. I chugged my water, sat for a bit, and then carried on, the peak getting closer with every step.

Before long, I reached a junction with a well-worn and obvious use trail that branched off towards the peak. A short and steep moment later I was staring up at the pointy summit, the trail directly ascending its northern side. I continued along, smaller use trails branching off from the main one in a few directions, all of which were viable options (although a tad brushy). The grade eventually mellowed out and the trail wound its way to the east of the summit before wrapping around south and spitting me out on top. 

Montecito Peak

Montecito Peak Summit

No register, no benchmark to be found (although I'll admit I didn't look too hard). A small gravestone was placed on the summit; didn't read it, didn't look at it. The views were much better a bit farther to the south, so I waved a slight wave to the summit and went off in that direction. A short while later and I was sitting on top of a bunch of sandstone boulders, staring at some of the best views of Santa Barbara and the Channel Islands I've ever seen.

Nice skies, crystal blue water, mild haze, green country, shining city. Close enough to see civilization, far enough to be deaf to its existence. Anacapa, Santa Cruz, Santa Rosa, and San Miguel all within frame, all of them obscure, isolated, mysterious. Oil rigs in the channel, a boat here and there, microscopic cars moving like blood cells through a vein on the 101 freeway, clouds in the air moving slower than a stoned sloth, sunshine, fresh air and the mighty Pacific, all there before my eyes, blazing the scene upon my overstimulated retinas. I forgot how good the views are in the Santa Ynez Range. On a good day, they're truly something else. 

The young people reached the summit; their muffled voices and footsteps breaking the silence. They didn't stay too long, just long enough for a few pictures, a snack and some light conversation. They packed up and left, and so did I, slowly making my way through the light brush back to the use trail. I took one last look at the gorgeous view, said my goodbyes, and then trotted off the summit. 

The young folks were taking their time on the way down. I became impatient almost immediately and took one of the side routes, zig-zagging down the the mountain until meeting up with the main use trail. It spit me out at the junction, which meant it was back to trukin'. I skipped and hopped on the downhill, walking occasionally to save my wobbly knees. There was a woman with eight or nine dogs resting at the eucalyptus trees, all of them leashless, all of them extremely well-behaved. Down, down, down, the sun in my face, my water supply holding steady, the lighting and the scenery growing better and better as the day wore on.

I reached the junction with the Ridge Trail (or whatever it was called) and decided to follow it the rest of the way down. Part of me thought that it would save me some distance, but really I was just curious to see what it had to offer. And offer it did. About halfway down I nearly stepped on a big ol' gopher snake sunbathing in the middle of the trail. I looked at it and it at me and then it slithered away into the bushes, quite vexed at having its sunbathing session so rudely interrupted. I trotted the rest of the way, finishing the whole hike in a little over three hours.

Three hours was much longer than I thought it would take. Oh well. That's what happens when you do zero research on a route. For some reason, I thought the hike was only 2.5 miles. It was closer to 7. Oopsie. Now I had to make a decision: bag another peak or relax and grab a bite to eat in town. I had to meet my Dad for dinner at 5:30pm, which was four hours away. The closest peak of interest, Gaviota Peak, was about 40 minutes away, the hike to the summit a fairly steep 6 mile roundtrip hike. I'd have to be finished with the peak by 4pm, 4:15 at the latest in order to make it to dinner on time. It was currently 1:05pm. I'd have to climb the whole thing, up and down, in 2 hours. Oooh brother. This would be close.

The wise choice would've been to relax and grab a bite to eat, maybe even go to the beach and read a book, but of course I didn't do that. I like me a good challenge, and the time crunch made it all the more exciting. I jumped in my car, started 'er up, and drove straight to the trailhead for Gaviota Peak. Only two cars were there, one of which was a parks service vehicle. Not wanting to be an easy ticket, I reluctantly payed the $2 parking fee in quarters, dropping the envelope in the little metal box by the trailhead. And then it was on!

Heading up to Gaviota Peak...

I began the thing at an easy jog, which was a mistake. I jogged and walked, jogged and walked, following the wide dirt road up and up and up through a forest of typical Southern Californian foliage. I payed no mind to the trail for the hot springs; didn't have no time to see those today. Just kept on jogging and walking, jogging and walking, down a little bit and then up and up and up pretty much the whole rest of the way to the summit.

My legs were on fire, my heart felt like it was gonna jump out of my neck. I was completely drenched in sweat, big fat globs of it plopping on my sunglasses ever minute or so. I took them off, wiped 'em on my shirt, and kept going. I was panting like an overworked sled dog, my breath heavy and labored. I started dry heaving and then I was like, "hey, this is completely optional by the way" and I sat flat on the ground and took a five minute break, just enough to get my heart rate back to a more agreeable rhythm. 

I didn't jog anymore after that. No sir. Just found my groove and kept on walking up the dirt road, up and up, until it finally reached the summit ridge. I pushed onward, kicked it into another gear, and finished up the last little push to the summit in no time. 

Last bit to the top

Gaviota Peak Summit

It had taken me a little over an hour and ten minutes to get to the summit. No time for dilly-dallying. I took a few pictures, a little tinkle, and then immediately started heading back. It was windy up there anyway, and my soaking wet shirt didn't help much in making me comfortable. So I trotted on down, taking a few more pictures of the Pacific Ocean and Santa Cruz Island in the distance.

Headin' back...

I jogged until my legs screamed "no thank you" and relegated me to walking for the rest of the afternoon. A few others were making their way up, all of them much more relaxed and a heck of a lot less sweaty than me. Down the road, down the curves, through the green, across the mud, under the oaks with the Spanish moss, past the poppies, past the miner's lettuce, down down down. I reached the parking lot. There were a lot more cars there now, with no parks service vehicle to be seen. I walked up to my car. Threw my bag in the back. Downed some electrolytes. Sat down. It was 3:52pm. Hahaha. I had time to spare.

The drive back into town was uneventful. Typical Santa Barbara traffic didn't surprise me one bit. I took Highway 150, stopping at an overlook of Lake Casitas to stretch my angry legs. Met up with my Dad at Boccali's. Had me the pasta primavera. 'Twas very good. My hamstring only cramped up once during dinner, which was nice. Coulda cramped up a thousand times. Always gotta look on the bright side, you know?